


A Harmless Game of Chess

by TerekfromEarth



Category: Star Trek Into Darkness - Fandom, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: An excuse for Q-Cumber, Gen, Into Darkness - Freeform, M/M, Mind Games, Quinto/Cumberbatch, hints of slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerekfromEarth/pseuds/TerekfromEarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am inspired by John Harrison standing in the brig of the Enterprise being interrogated by Spock. As intellectual equals, a game of chess ensues in John Harrison's holding cell. Rated M for future slashy stuff and language just to be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an excuse for Q-Cumber (Quinto-Cumberbatch, my new favorite couple, I mean really!). Again, I own nothing nor do I know anything about Star Trek Into Darkness. Drop me an email if you have written any John Harrison fics, the hotter the better!

It had been a long exhausting evening for John Harrison, war criminal, and former Starfleet officer. Captain James T. Kirk, First Officer Spock, and Lieutenant Uhura had hunted him down for the crimes he had allegedly committed. Their names and faces are seared into his memory and he would make them pay for their interference and grave miscalculation, one by one, beginning with the most difficult challenge: Mr. Spock. 

The brig of the U.S.S. Enterprise, which was now his temporary home, was icy cold; the white lights that never dimmed gave him an irritating headache. It was, however, a bit less bleak than the Klingon prison camp on Qo’noS. The brig was like an officers lounge in comparison to some of the places he had been. It’s not like this was the first time he had been captured, either. He had experienced atrocities most people couldn’t imagine. Although he had been expertly trained for special operations and espionage, being hunted, captured and interrogated by his own people sat heavy in his chest. They have no idea what they are up against, he though, they are making an inexorable mistake. 

When they first arrived on the Enterprise, he was immediately charged with war crimes and his hearing at Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco, Earth, would be in four standard days. Not much time to get the hell out of here, he thought. Shortly after, he was put into a decontamination chamber and scrubbed clean by two redshirts. He submitted rebelliously to the guards, standing naked and arrogant, giving off a subtle display of enjoyment. “Thank you gentlemen. They don’t give you showers on Qo’noS.” He smirked, his British intonation giving him a greater sense of contemptuousness. “I think you missed a spot just above my arse,” he quipped. The redshirt shoved him to the ground. Fortunately, they released him from the shackles, but left the handcuffs on. He fell onto his wrists and pushed himself up. Even with handcuffs on, he knew of thirteen ways he could snap the neck of the redshirt that had pushed him, but he would be patient. He glared at the redshirt with cold dusky blue eyes, a look that was difficult to pull away from let alone recover from. 

They gave him clean regulation blacks, strapped and locked him down to a hover bed and hauled him to Med Bay for an exponential series of tests. It was warmer, dimmer and more private, not offensive like his clear cell. 

“I’m going to need to take some samples, but you probably already knew that. I’m Dr. McCoy.” Bones, even in the company of an alleged terrorist, had a polite bedside manner. 

“Hello doctor. I am John. I would shake your hand, but the cuffs…” half a smirk appeared on his face.

“Hmm. This shouldn’t take long. I’ll be back shortly,” Bones turned to the two guards in the room and whispered, “Don’t even talk to him. I’m told he is skillful at mind manipulation.”  
“And I have an acute sense of hearing,” Harrison's intimidating baritone voice raised the hair on the back of Bones’ neck, Dammit, he thought. 

After Med Bay, they brought him back to his cell where the computer released him from his cuffs. He rubbed his wrists, stood behind the clear barrier and began to think of how many fortifications he would need to breach. One: Redshirts, easy. Two: Force Field, more of a challenge but not impossible. Three: clear wall material I am unfamiliar with. I will have to investigate its properties further, he thought. He slowly backed up over to his narrow cot, laid down and closed his eyes, not sleeping, just meditating his next move. 

About a standard hour later, he heard a clicking noise coming from a small food replicator cabinet. He rose from his bunk and slowly walked over to the clear barrier, looked around and saw nothing. He went over to the cabinet, opened it and found a nice cup of hot tea. Splendid. He took a sip and it was brewed perfectly. Why, he thought, why is someone being civil toward me? 

“Do you find the tea satisfactory?” asked Spock as he appeared in front of the barrier. 

“It is very good, yes, thank you.” He hesitated and stared back at Spock. “Why then, Mr. Spock, would you offer me a token of civility? I did almost kill you on Qo’noS.”

“I do not subscribe to animosity or resentment. Those are human emotions.”

“Of course. I would never take a life just because I can. If I had killed you, it would not have been a reflection on my personal hatred for you. I would only kill if I felt my life was in danger, and lets be honest, the Klingon disruptor you were pointing at me does not have a stun setting.” 

“No offense taken where none is given.”

“Well then, now that we are chums, how about joining me for tea and a game, perhaps chess? There is no one in the galaxy that would be a more formidable opponent than a Vulcan Starfleet officer,” Harrison teased, half ridicule, half challenge. He knew he had to begin formulating an escape plan. If he could manipulate Spock, the possibility for eluding the rest of the crew would be like performing a cheap magic trick. 

“I shall take it into consideration. Although, in traditional or three-dimensional chess, I have never been defeated.”

Is he taunting me? He wants to play me. This should be easier than I had perceived, Harrison thought. “Nor have I, Mr. Spock.” He looked at Spock with an intense, vulnerable stare, his voice a bit softer, “I am innocent of the charges inflicted upon me. Anyone would have run. It has been set up to make it look like I detonated the bomb in London and I can prove it.” He grew more emotional, his eyes glossed over with sadness, his chin quivering slightly. “I love England, every filthy corner and every exquisite landscape. It is my home, Mr. Spock, and I would do anything to protect her…much like your own valiant efforts to protect your own homeland.” He had to make that move guessing Spock would still be susceptible to the raw emotion of losing his planet. It was a gamble. 

Spock stood undeviated from his original place with his hands behind his back, arched an eyebrow and said, “Your discourse has no bearing whatsoever on the decisions made by Starfleet.” He slightly nodded his head, pivoted on his heel and began to walk away.

“What about the game, Mr. Spock? Are you also defecting from my challenge?” Harrison tempted. Too much, I’m pushing him too much. I need to take my time with him, he scolded himself. 

Spock didn’t turn around, but he did pause, and then continued to walk away. 

# # #


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M just to be safe for future slashy stuff.

“What you suggest, Doctor, is an unethical and savage,” said Spock, standing in the Captains ready room.

“Dammit, Spock! Does Harrison have to insight more violence before you decide when to cross your ethical line!” Bones was getting angrier knowing this was an argument he would never win. 

Spock took a deep, frustrated breath and glared at Bones. “If you are suggesting that I violate a prisoner by melding with him to acquire information, then you Doctor, are most certainly in an unsuitable profession,” Spock said with a hint of sarcasm. “Perhaps you would conduct a frontal lobotomy using 20th century surgical paraphernalia…”

Bones stood, shouldered his way past Jim Kirk. “Why you pointy eared bastard!”

“Enough, gentlemen!” Kirk shouted. He stood and walked over to Bones who was red and fuming. “This ‘mind meld’ conversation is over. I have been ordered to interrogate him and get as much information out of him before we arrive at Starfleet Headquarters. There will be a board of inquiry, and most likely a court martial.” Kirk sat back down at the table and took a sip of his coffee. “I need your council, not your bickering. Now, I’ll ask you both again. How do we outfox the fox?”

“A suggestion, Captain, even though it may be highly improbable,” said Spock. “He appears to have challenged me to a game of chess. It is unknown what his intentions truly are. He may be seeking to scrutinize me or he simply requires an expert opponent.” Bones rolled his eyes. 

Kirk smirked at Bones. “Mr. Spock, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re intrigued.”

“I believe a game of chess with Harrison is an ethical approach, Captain.” He punctuated the word ethical with his eyebrow. 

“You don’t have to risk being that close to him. I won’t order you to engage him, but if you’re volunteering to sit in the brig with a highly trained assassin I’m not going to stop you either. It’s the best idea so far.” Kirk stood, tugged his tunic and headed out saying, “My money’s on you Mr. Spock.” Spock stood rigid, but his eyebrow implied confusion.

# # #

 

Spock arranged a tri-dimensional chess set, table and two chairs be placed in the corridor between Harrison’s holding cell and the lobby which connected to the hallways and turbo lift. The corridor would be monitored, but much more private than the exposed holding cell in which Harrison spent his time. Spock stepped off the turbo lift and proceeded down the hallway. He came upon Harrison standing close to the clear barrier, looking stoic and menacing…and just staring, like trying to bore a hole in the force field. He felt a sparse feeling of uncertainty and immediately dismissed it. As he neared, Harrison snapped out of his trance and perked up when he saw Spock. 

“Mr. Spock, I am delighted you have decided to indulge me!”

“Captain Kirk has agreed to my request, however he feels trepidation. My Vulcan sense tells me you simply desire a challenging game of chess.” The guards opened the door for Spock and he entered the corridor. He turned to the guards and ordered hot tea for both players. Harrison’s door was opened next and he entered the corridor, standing to face his opponent. 

Harrison grinned, “Well, would you be surprised if I told you that you are the first Vulcan I have had the pleasure to meet?”

“It would not surprise me, given the fact that you had spent many years on Qo’noS. Shall we?” Spock gestured to the table. 

“Tell me, Spock, is it customary for Vulcan’s to play chess and share tea with a terrorist?” His question surprised Spock. 

“Are you acknowledging the charges made against you to be fact?” Spock tilted his head ever so slight. 

Harrison ruptured into a hearty laugh. “Oh, please. I’ve been shackled, cuffed and strapped down. They’ve got me in a double walled cell! I’ve had no less than five redshirts guarding me at all times. Starfleet is giving me all the comforts of the most villainous criminal. I’m exceptional!” his voice filled with insolence.

“I cannot make a deduction based on several reports and an altercation on Qo’noS.”

“A gun fight on Qo’noS,” Harrison winked. “Well, shall we begin?”

“It is customary on Vulcan to allow the ‘guest’ to choose their side; black or white?”

“How elementary it all is…defining battles and enemies as ‘black’ or ‘white’.” Harrison pulled out his chair keeping eye contact with Spock. “Well, it only seems fitting I choose black.” He grinned and slowly sat. 

“Very well.” Spock sat upright and looked at the chessboard anticipating his first move. 'Pawn d 4'.

Harrison sipped his tea and met Spock’s pawn with his own. “It’s very interesting. The Federation has defined me as a terrorist, yet my alleged terrorist activities are very similar to those actions committed by the Federation.”

“I am unfamiliar with the ‘alleged terrorist activities’ you speak of.” He made his second move. 'Pawn c 4'. 

“The Queen’s gambit, you intend to be here a while.” That was not a question. “I have a conundrum, Spock. A young man throws a handmade grenade when the compound he’s in is being attacked and bombed. Who gets to choose who the terrorist is?” Harrison’s voice growing slightly agitated. 

“I believe modern usage of the word ‘terrorist’ is incorrect. It seems illogical to fight a war against a tactic; it is an enemy that cannot be seen. It is a prescription for a never-ending war. It is quite barbaric.” 

“Then why does a Vulcan join Starfleet?”

Spock resented this question but deemed it logical to answer and finally addressed him by his title. “I am a scientist, Commander Harrison, Starfleet was a logical option and I am provided with state of the art exploratory opportunities.”  
Harrison seemed to be enjoying irritating Spock; he knew his arguments would be countered ad infinitum. He stretched his legs under the table and brushed Spock’s leg with his own. Spock straightened uncomfortably but noticed he felt a small rush from the collision. Although not skin contact, touch telepaths such as Vulcan’s can certainly gain fragments of information by a mere touch. Spock was certain he heard 'rook', 'headquarters' and 'San Francisco' telepathically through Harrison’s lingering contact. 

# # # 

 

The game continued into the evening as the two men conversed about the situation Harrison was in: drawing parallels between terrorist tactics and chess. Despite the fact that he had serious charges piled against him, Harrison was not unpleasant for a human. Spock wondered if he would feel a sense of deficit in the event of Harrison’s ultimate departure. 'Would he have been an agreeable officer to serve with?' Spock asked himself. 'His concepts of war and terrorism are not that different than my own.' 

In a bold move, Harrison’s rook captured Spock’s bishop. “Fascinating.” Spock leaned forward, calm but slightly perplexed he had let it happen. 

Harrison stood and stretched. “You can take my rook now, it’s a sacrifice that is necessary to protect the oppressed from the ruling elite.” He walked over to Spock, facing him. “But then again, we haven’t decided what side are the oppressed, the black or the white.” He put his hand on Spock’s shoulder and looked down at him and smiled, “It’s only a harmless game of chess.” His warm hand felt comforting, even intimate. Harrison had an incredibly charismatic presence; Spock had to consider his attention closely so as to not be distracted by his allure. 

Once again, Spock was confounded not just by the forwardness of the touch, but by the messages he was getting through the touch. This time he heard 'Starfleet', 'headquarters' and 'detonate.' He stored the information away, broke eye contact with Harrison and focused on the game. 

# # #


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets slashy, I hope you like it. I'm going to write an explicit version of this soon. It's already in my perverted head, I mean, it's Q-Cumber!

Spock had worked a long shift on the bridge, strategizing the next plan of action with Kirk, however, it irritated him that he was anticipating the continued game and his interaction with Harrison. On his break, he would detour down to the holding cell to adjust the monitoring device: equalizing the sound for better clarity and positioning the camera for a bit more privacy. Spock was growing uncomfortable with Harrison’s closeness, and felt self-conscious allowing Harrison’s tactile advances, knowing they were being monitored. ‘Is he trying to distract my game?’ Spock wondered, ‘what can he gain from such intimate contact?’ 

Spock rounded the hallway to the corridor in which they played. There, standing as stoic as a black knight on a chessboard, contrasting with the bright white of the holding cell, was John Harrison, staring, computing, contemplating. Spock felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. ‘Most illogical, a very human emotion,’ he thought. There was something about Harrison that evoked an increasingly genuine reaction in Spock. Was it his Vulcan-like appearance: dark features, proud; or was it his intelligence and devil-may-care charisma? It was odd, Harrison did not seem delighted to have his favorite visitor this time so Spock just nodded and walked to the corridor. 

“You are ahead of schedule. Did you want to have a chat” The deep British baritone seemed to be amplified from behind the force field. 

“I am here to adjust the monitoring system. If I am disturbing you, I can return at a more suitable time.”

Harrison turned his head slowly to make eye contact. “Spock, I am pleased to be in your company. Not only are you remarkable at chess, I enjoy our conversations immensely.” Spock entered the room and opened the door on Harrison’s side. He stepped closer to Spock, stopping at the table to move his queen to capture the white knight. 

“As do I, commander.”

“I would appreciate it if you called me John. I’m not your enemy and I’m not a commander anymore. There’s absolutely no chance of me ever being free again. They are going to lock me away and I will become a martyr. Big mistake.” He furrowed his brow sarcastically and gestured for Spock to sit. “I admire you, Spock. You are face to face with a man who is charged with atrocities and war crimes, and yet you remain unbiased. And you’re free as a fucking bird!”

Spock stood still, up against the wall. He felt a slight hesitation, like he shouldn’t be there at this time, but felt unable to leave. Harrison took a step closer, “I am very curious, aren’t you, about what our friendship would be like if the situation was different?” His voice grew deeper and calmer. He took another two steps. “Don’t you have something ‘logical’ to say about our friendship?”

Spock’s mouth had gone dry; his feet planed on the floor. “I am not very familiar with ‘friendships’. I am Vulcan.” It wasn’t a complete lie about being Vulcan, if only half. He needed to brace himself and control the fear and anxiety he was feeling as Harrison drew closer. 

“A friend is someone we trust, respect and depend upon. Do you trust Jim Kirk?”

“I believe I do.”

“Would you then describe Jim Kirk as a friend?”

“I would.”

Harrison took a few slower steps toward Spock. “Based on your time in here with me, if I were your commanding officer, would you trust me?”

Spock swallowed hard, but it was barely noticeable. “Based on my time thus far, I believe I would…trust you.” He wanted to turn on his heel and bolt out of the room, but a Vulcan would never back down or run. Harrison took another few steps and was standing less than a foot away. Spock would keep his focus straight ahead and not divert his eyes. He was so close, he wondered if he should concentrate on the possible chance of telepathy. That was when he felt Harrison’s index and middle finger brush against his own. Spock took a calming breath, concentrated and set his heart rate back to normal. 

“Do you find me fascinating, Spock?”

“Yes.” This time, Spock’s eyes shifted down, reflecting the darkness in Harrison’s stormy blues, his head remained forward.

Harrison’s hand circled Spock’s and entwined his fingers and pressed into him. “I find you extremely fascinating,” he whispered close to his ear. “In fact, I trust you will not pull away from me.” Spock watched as Harrison licked his bottom lip, and then a rush of information, symbols, numbers, equations, surging in from the touch. He inhaled sharply and detached himself from the situation in order to store the information. Harrison stood a little straighter and pressed his lips into Spock’s in a soft kiss. Spock gripped his hand harder and easily pulled him closer. For the first time, Harrison felt just how strong the Vulcan was and was captivated by it. He gently nibbled Spock’s lower lip, rubbing noses. He felt a mostly inaudible growl from deep within Spock and begged for his mouth to open. Spock took his other hand and pulled him closer in a dominant move feeling Harrison’s muscular body in places that were not unpleasant. Spock closed his eyes and finally allowed Harrison in, paralleling the movement of his lips. The rush of the unplanned meld grew stronger as they exchanged tongues and insatiable deep kisses. Spock pulled away to think, but could only look at Harrison’s swollen red lips and desired more of the intensity of the meld while kissing. He had never felt sexual contact during a mind meld before, so he initiated another hard kiss, logging the information and making a side note of how he tasted: hot earl gray tea, sweet and smoky. 

Spock finally straightened, tugged his tunic, and stepped aside. “Commander, John, if I were not officer in an armada you seek to destroy, I would...welcome… a friendship.” His eyebrow peaked. “However, I do believe our game has concluded.” Spock leaned in around him to the table, and with his queen, rendered Harrison’s king terminated. “Checkmate.” He stood back up straight with his hands clasped behind his back. 

Turning around to the table, his eyes wide, Harrison studied the chess board for 7.3 seconds, Spock noted. “Very, very good!” He turned to Spock, the look of astonishment on his angular face, and congratulated him. “Well played Spock. You took a serious risk, one that could have sent your own king to his grave.” He stepped toward Spock and laid a gentle finger across his bottom lip. “I admire a man who takes risks.” 

“I have gained much knowledge from you. Including the plans for your ‘terrorist’ network: pawn to king’s bishop 4, commander, is your next move to obliterate Starfleet. You have translated your own cryptograph into language for me. Their orders are to detonate a bomb at Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco upon your arrival.”

Harrison laughed nervously, “Are you out of your Vulcan mind, Mr. Spock! No one could possibly know that.”

“I am afraid, sir, you have inadvertently given me the details of the network, timing and location of the detonation.”

Harrison raged, pacing back and forth in the corridor. “How in bloody hell can you know this?” His chest puffed and his eyes grew dark and red. 

“Clearly, you are unaware of Vulcan physiology. We are telepathic. When you touched me, our minds became one. I can describe it as simply as reading your mind.” Spock turned and walked out of the room, the door hissed at his exit. From behind the clear barrier and force field, Spock almost flinched as Harrison threw himself into the wall pounding his fists. “I will have my vengeance!” he roared. 

# # #

Spock sat in Kirk’s ready room with his hands neatly folded in front of him. Kirk slowly paced, then decided to sit. “Spock, you have once again taken considerable risk for the crew of the Enterprise and for the sake of humanity. If I didn’t know any better, I’d call it recklessness.” 

“Captain, it was a logical course of action. When I began to receive messages through telepathy, I became intrigued and do not feel I acted unethically.”

Kirk lowered his voice. “What I’m trying to say is that you have acted heroically by sustaining Harrison’s...ministrations.” He swiveled in his seat. 

His eyebrow perked up, “Ah, I see captain. May I be excused?”

“Of course. Oh, and Spock, I would also call you my ‘friend’’, he smirked and walked out in front of Spock. 

Spock stepped off the turbolift and walked the hallway to his quarters, the door whooshed open and he entered. He dressed himself in his robe and lit a small fire for meditation. “Lights 80 percent,” he ordered. He sat for an hour and realized he had not been able to clear the memory of John Harrison from his mind, quite the contrary, he had ensured it would be there for a very long time.


End file.
